MONDAY, JUNE 28 This week of forbidden porn, expired sex symbols, and chronic vomiters got off to a fittingly distinctive start today with a Hot Tip from the Berg family, a Seattle clan who recently found themselves sucked across the Darigold boycott line by a bag of orange creamsicles."I couldn't resist," confessed Pa Berg, lamenting the scarcity of legitimate frozen creamsicles in this age of "bottled Thomas Kemper and hard-candy substitutes." However, the Bergs' guilty pleasure soon turned to consternation, as one of the last few creamsicles was unwrapped to reveal a bizarre division between the orange--which clumped at the top--and the cream, which settled at the bottom. Closer inspection revealed the cause of the misshapen creamsicle: a metal bolt, tucked inside the frozen Darigold novelty. Was this karmic retribution for the Bergs caving in to boycott-flouting temptation? Or was this creamsicle sabotage engineered by an uppity undercover scab at the Darigold plant? For an answer, Ma Berg contacted the Darigold consumer line, on which she left a "pointed message." Two days later, the Bergs received a call from a Darigold consumer manager, who expressed her dismay at the discovery and confirmed the Bergs' initial diagnosis: "The bolt shouldn't have been in your creamsicle." After surmising that the bolt most likely came from a machine and assuring the Bergs of Darigold's regular maintenance checks, the hapless manager promised the family a "variety of free product coupons"--in exchange for the returned bolt. "We assume she wanted to compare it with empty holes around the factory," cracked Ma Berg, who confirmed receipt of her free product coupons--four "cowpons" for ice cream, and four for "novelties." Thanks to Darigold for its selfless generosity, thanks to the Bergs for sharing.
TUESDAY, JUNE 29Speaking of Hot Tips: Today brought an absolutely disgusting sighting from Hot Tipper Ingo, who yesterday drove to Renton to treat his elderly grandmother to lunch at Vince's Italian Restaurant. "As we were pulling into the parking lot," writes Ingo, "I noticed a very, very large man exiting the restaurant. He had to weigh at least 250-300 pounds, and was walking very slowly with the aid of two crutches. As I passed him, he leaned forward onto his crutches and let loose a stream of what could only be barely digested remains of Vince's vittles. The color and texture was decidedly Italian. As we got out of the car, I noticed that the man had vomited again, and was going at it a third time, averaging about one ralph every six feet. All told, the poor man tossed his cookies approximately a dozen times before reaching his car." Was the puker a heavyweight cancer patient celebrating his chemo with a nice lunch out? Or was he a recent lap-band recipient paying the price for stuffing his stapled gut with more than the allotted two ounces? Who knows--but Ingo was decidedly successful with his own good-grandson quest: "Once inside, I took a good look at Grandma Elaine and could tell by the eager and pleasant expression on her face that she, in her hard-of-hearing, easily distracted elderly utopia, had witnessed none of the carnage outside."
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 30Not so lucky was Hot Tipper Jason, who was riding the 545 bus from downtown to his job in Redmond when he was made to witness a hideous orgy of public grooming. "I was sitting near the front of the bus," writes Jason. "After the bus left the Montlake freeway station, I noticed an overweight man in his 50s standing next to the driver. While marveling at the seriously icky crotch-sweat stains on the man's ill-fitting bike shorts, I eventually noticed that the man was flossing. When he was done, he threw the floss on the floor and reached into his fanny pack for a pair of nail clippers, with which he proceeded to clip his thick, yellowing nails in front of the whole bus. If that weren't enough, he then produced a little baggie of Q-tips!" By the time Jason saw the swabs emerge from the man's ears with dark yellow tips, he could look no more. "That succeeded in completely grossing me out," confesses Jason. "I averted my eyes from him the rest of the trip."
THURSDAY, JULY 1Speaking of people who belong in jail: Today brought bad news for Washington State inmates, who today lost their right to possess pornography. The Associated Press reports that the Washington prison system's new mail policy--which forbids any images depicting full frontal nudity--went into effect on May 1, but allowed inmates two months to bid farewell to their libraries of wank. Now the fateful day has arrived, and many of the state's 6,000 prisoners are none too pleased. Denouncing the new ban, inmate Darren Sherman told the AP how his box of porn helps him momentarily escape his miserable existence as a convicted murderer serving life without parole. Defending the ban, Lynne DeLano, assistant deputy secretary of the Washington State Department of Corrections, told the AP that prison porn "flew in the face of the principles of rehabilitation," specifying that "a lot of [porn] coming in was fairly degrading, especially to women." As Last Days neither lives nor works in a prison, we have no legitimate opinion on the full-frontal porn ban. But we do foresee a sharp spike in the prison readership of Maxim and Blender.
FRIDAY, JULY 2Today brought the sad yet unexpected death of Marlon Brando, the greatest actor America has yet produced and, from 1952-'59, the most sexually attractive man in the world. Brando will be forever revered for his work in A Streetcar Named Desire, On the Waterfront, The Godfather, and Last Tango in Paris, and forever mocked for his death-tauntingly morbid obesity.
SATURDAY, JULY 3Speaking of morbid obesity: Today we received a thrilling correction from good old Hot Tipper Kate, who wrote to contest Hot Tipper Alan's suggestion that the large musty woman Kate saw suck at her own flubby teat was actually Bob, beloved street nut. "I just had to set the record straight," writes Kate. "I know Bob. The person I saw sweating on the sidewalk was very much female, and her boobs were most definitely woman boobs. More importantly, Bob is African-American and this woman was Caucasian." Thanks to Kate for her enviable precision and follow-up skills, and congratulations to Bob, whose dancing has touched more souls than any local since Mark Morris.
SUNDAY, JULY 4Speaking of corrections: Today Hot Tipper Lila wrote to denounce Last Days' glib summation of last Saturday, June 26: "Nothing happened that day?" writes Lila. "What about the 200-or-so-strong Dyke March down Broadway and 15th Ave? Those of us who feel that queer culture is becoming too mainstream and corporatized and that the pride parade in its current manifestation is a symptom of this issue revel in the alternative offered by the Seattle Dyke March." Of course Lila's right, and Last Days apologizes for the oversight. Careful readers may recall Last Days' other correction this year concerned our ignorance of the gazillion-or-so-strong March for Women's Lives on Washington, raising legitimate suspicions about the possibility of a passive-aggressively misogynist blind spot in Last Days' subconscious, manifested in a bias against large, ambulatory groups of women. But we swear it's just coincidence.
Send Hot Tips to lastdays@thestranger.com.
